I apologize for the long hiatus on this story. I especially apologize for the large part of the time (six months?!) lost through procrastination and laziness (yes, I'm so bad I require two different names for the same problem ...). There were some deeper issues involved, though ... I became lost in my interest in moving Coexistence along – I felt on track with that story in ways that, for a long time, I didn't with this one.

I knew the end to Coexistence. And I discovered that that's a very powerful feeling. The ending is allowed to change – but just to have one, period, helps a lot.

That is not to say that this chapter is the end of this fic – it still has quite a journey ahead of it. But at least this six-month break I took has allowed me to take a long look at this fic and find my destination. And I think my writing is the better for it. (I certainly hope it is ...).

Now that I've gotten my rant about the philosophy of writing (or whatever I was talking about) out of the way, I have only one thing left to say: Harry Potter, as always, belongs to J.K. Rowling, and the quote quoted towards the end of the chapter belongs to Benjamin Franklin.

Well, two things. Please, enjoy.

(Note 8/23: Many thanks to theM and I Am The Bunny Slayer for alerting me to formatting problem. It should be taken care of now.

Note 8/24: Or maybe not. Thanks to Artemisu for warning me that scene change markers were still not in place.)

Deus Ex ... Whatever ...

If this were a Sailormoon crossover, the setting might be compared to the Gates of Time. Since it is not, we shall simply suffice to say light of a rather grey quality existed, but derived from no visible source; this certain light shone (if that is the proper word) on a ground that was remarkable in its flatness.

And, of course, a lot of mist, the sort that is particularly thick between about knee and chest level, thinning from there on up, and never quite moving the way mist is supposed to move.

In short, the place had ambiance.

In one particular area, there hung (on, apparently, nothing, of course) a mirror of middling ornateness. And in front of the mirror, apparently observing whatever lay in its depths, stood a mysteriously cowled stranger. He – or she – was middling tall, with a seemingly slim build; any other details were hidden by the archetypical robes.

The mirror flickered through a large number of images before finally settling on one – a young black-haired girl being held at wand-point. With a sharp nod from the figure, the mirror resumed its flickering passage, finally dividing in two. On the left, an office containing four living bodies and two dead ones; on the right, another black-haired girl, this one with a single long, rather messy braid, running as if her life (or certainly someone's) depended on it.

The robed figure nodded again, this time with considerable satisfaction. "It's all happening just the way they said it would."

All three pictures displayed themselves on the mirror now; if one could have seen the figure's face, they would have seen a bright smile, anticipating what was yet to come.

"It's almost time ..."

A rather large dog – indiscriminately brown, it was not recognizably any particular breed – lay curled in the center of the bed with its garish burgundy and golden hangings. Curled up against its side, a monkey – rather on the small side, with nimble fingers that occasionally twitched even in sleep.

It was the monkey who awoke first, picking carefully through the fur on the dog's head before abruptly shaking itself, stretching in a remarkably human manner, then stretching into an unmistakably human shape.

Still rubbing her eyes with one hand and yawning, Pansy flounced onto the bed with enough verve to pop the sleeping dog a couple of inches into the air. After the initial 'yip' of surprise, needless to say, Parvati was not amused. When Pansy saw that the dog was showing no intention of transforming back into a shape in which she could actually hold an intelligible conversation, she descended to wheedling.

"Oh, fine." Five minutes later, Parvati made a great show of cleaning out her ears. "I hadn't known that it was possible for your whining to get any more annoying ..."

The master grinned unrepentantly, flattered by the praise of her art. "So ... I was wondering ..." Mentally, she crossed her fingers. Through harsh experience, she had learned that it was generally best to take the straightforward approach when speaking with Gryffindors, but that still tended to leave her feeling a bit off balance. "... why is it that you spend the night of every full moon transformed?"

Parvati looked away, and even before she spoke Pansy knew she had lost that particular gamble. "It's ... I ..." A shake of the head. "It's complicated. And ... not something I can explain to you. I don't have the right, even if I could."

Whoever said Gryffindors couldn't keep secrets obviously hadn't known a thing about Gryffindors. When their precious honor was on the line, they could be the most annoyingly close-mouthed people she knew.

Much to Pansy's regret.

"Parkinson. Could I have a word?"

Pansy stopped midstep and slowly turned, a spurt of unreasoning dread seizing her body. "Flint, Avery. Of course, it would be my pleasure." If she had learned anything from being in Slytherin, it was how to remain calm and pleasant on the outside no matter what she actually felt.

As she moved towards the two uncrowned kings of Slytherin, she was hyperaware of the glare Chris was using to send everyone else in the hallway scurrying. Still, it wasn't good enough. Vince was actually the first to open his mouth – but she nixed that idea with an upraised hand.

Five minutes later, in an out-of-the-way classroom she was relatively sure didn't contain any hidden portraits or similar articles that might pass a message on to anyone, and under a silencing spell, she turned back to the other. "Okay." Brusquely. "Now ... what do you want?"

Vince raised an eyebrow. "I know we make paranoia an art form ... but, was this" a gesture to the room at large "all really necessary?"

Crossed arms. "That depends on the subject of conversation."

"I was curious if you had been in contact with Draco." Chris said quietly. "Or if you even knew whether he was all right ... the absolute silence concerning his disappearance has us all ... disquieted."

Pansy pinched her nose. "And, considering the silence, that didn't strike you as an extremely sensitive topic of conversation? Agh ... who do you think is responsible for his disappearance in the first place?!"

Vince looked horrified. "We haven't seen him around as much as usual ... don't tell me it was Severus' fault!"

"No, you raving idiot! Dumbledore! Sure, Severus is the one that spirited Draco away ... but only because Dumbledore would have ... killed him, or mind-wiped him, or something if he didn't!"

That led to some incoherent spluttering. "But ... what did Draco do?"

Chris' eyes narrowed. "He didn't arrange P – Harry's disappearance, did he? ... But they're bonded ... that doesn't make sense ..."

Here Pansy deflated. "... I don't know what he did. I don't know what happened. I'm trying to find out – well, that's immaterial at the moment. All I know is that he did something, that Severus is protecting him from Professor Dumbledore's wrath, and that whatever that something is, Severus seems to think it's bad enough that it would prompt me to deny Draco my support."

Chris and Vince exchanged glances. "That's it." Vince asserted firmly, though unable to entirely subdue the (vastly inappropriate for this conversation) twitching to his lips at the very idea. "He's become a mass murderer for sure."

Unable to think of a more constructive way to deal with the problem, the three wizards (well, two wizards and a witch, but who's really counting?) sat around Snape's small kitchen table and sipped tea.

"So." Chirped the sparrow – er, that is, Cho. "You two are really quite good, you know. I've been around for a while now, and I still have no more than a few outlandish guesses as to what exactly is going on. Mind filling me in?" Might as well try direct, since indirect has netted me precisely nothing so far.

An exchange of glances, a nod from Severus ('your call') and a shrug from Draco. "I recently regained certain memories of a past life of mine." The blond explained casually, taking another sip. "In that life, I was a Necromantic Master. Right now, I'm training Severus – I suppose you could call him my apprentice."

"Though I'd rather you didn't." Snape interjected in a tone that warned 'do it and you will die a horrible painful death', sending a fairly nasty glare in Draco's direction.

Cho sprayed tea in every direction (of course, she had just taken a sip of her own when Draco dropped the bombshell), provoking the glare into changing targets and intensifying as Snape slowly wiped his face. Oh well ... at least Draco thought it was funny ... "You're – wha –" A long, slow blink. "Wow."

Pleasantries out of the way, her essentially Ravenclaw nature reasserted itself. "Wow. Can I learn too?" Incredulous looks. "What ... you expected me to be horrified? Necromancy is a completely forgotten art. No one knows anything about it! And now you say you have the memories of a Master?"

"Well ... not all of them ... I still have a lot of holes ..."

"Still! You'll have researchers falling all over you, begging you – offering you their firstborn child if you'll just teach them about it.

Draco winced. "I'd ... erh ... rather keep it a bit quieter than that."

A sharp nod. "Understood. Still ... do you understand just what a great mine of information you are? Who in their right mind would get bent out of shape about that?"

"Dumbledore." The two Slytherins chorused on a sigh.

Cho abruptly stopped, her mouth left hanging slightly open. "Waitasec. You mean ... this is what caused you to disappear so thoroughly? Just because you discovered you were a Necromancer?"

"No." Draco correctly dryly. "'Just because' Dumbledore discovered I'm a Necromancer."

"Geez ... I wouldn't think – who were you in that past life, anyway?" She abruptly brightened. "Hey, wouldn't it be so wickedly ironic if you were Salazar Slytherin?"

"... Why?" Draco plaintively petitioned the ceiling. "I know I stayed out of the limelight when I could ... but why, in the name of Merlin's long and exceedingly unkempt beard, does everyone and their pet monkey think that Salazar was a Necromancer?!"

"... I'm guessing it would have been safer to let you keep thinking I was a Lestrange, huh?"

"Probably so." The scarf-laden Harry remarked cheerfully – though Lucia noticed that his wand didn't waver.

A sigh. "Look, I'm sure I love him about as deeply as any of you do. I'm not here as his proxy – whatever he's up to in this world. I'm just trying to get home." She scratched her head. "Yeesh ... what has he been doing with himself to promote so much hatred? It was an open secret back home that he'd been one of Voldemort's foremost followers, and he was still invited to all the posh parties and events."

Suspicion flared in her mind. "Voldemort." She repeated. No, her mind hadn't been playing tricks on her. "Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort!" James Potter was flinching away, just the slightest bit ... but no one else was. "He's gone, isn't he? Voldemort is dead, and Father has taken his place. How did you do it?"

"Do what?" James Potter was blinking, as if ever so slightly confused at this sudden change in topic.

"Kill Voldemort, of course!" Lucia clarified impatiently. She was about to make a gesture to underscore said impatience – perhaps move toward him to shake some sense into him – but luckily just managed to arrest the motion when she belatedly remembered that she was still being held at wandpoint.

"That would be my fault." Harry (she really needed to think up a nickname for him ...) piped cheerfully. "No one's really sure how I did it, of course, but ..."

Lucia deflated. "No ... I meant permanently. I did the same thing – he cast the killing curse, I reflected it –" this time she did dare to gesture, at the scar running across her face "– he disappeared until my first year and finally managed to regain a body last year."

Collective blink. "But ... it is permanent." Harry blurted. "You can see the body and everything. Well, now there isn't, so you can't actually see it, since it was cremated shortly after his death just in case, but it did exist. Ask Dad if you don't believe me – he's the one that threw the knife that did it."

"You killed Voldemort with a knife?" Incredulous. "Merlin ... it was that simple? I'm surprised someone hasn't managed to do the deed long before now." She eyed Harry suddenly. "Hey ... didn't you say you did it?"

"Well ... so I stretched the truth a bit. It was really more of a collective effort."

Lucia rubbed the bridge of her nose. "This ... is not making sense. What really happened?"

Harry paused in the act of sticking his wand back into his pocket – the first thing that brought to Lucia's active notice the fact that they were all putting their wands away. Huh. I wonder what I said that finally convinced them? "It's complicated."

"Welcome to my life." Lucia reminded him dryly. "I've lived for months in a world not my own, where my beloved brother is one of the more stuck up and nasty characters I've had the displeasure to meet – at least, he certainly was; after he struck up a friendship with my male body double he seems to have become somewhat more ... erh, human?"

She made a grand gesture. "Then – in the middle of a Halloween masquerade party, no less – I and my analog get kidnapped by Voldemort, separated and thrown into new worlds ... and now, I find myself meeting yet another male body double. I've become accustomed to extremely weird; I think I can handle a bit of 'complicated'."

More exchanged glances. Doubtful, for the most part. Finally, Harry shrugged and, with a sigh, began unwrapping his gold and black scarf. Once he was through, he stood, head held high and unashamed, as Lucia gazed upon a sight that made her wince sympathetically and bring a hand to the scar that slashed across her face.

"I received this when I was fifteen months old." Harry began to narrate as he carefully avoided Lucia's blank stare at the wide scar that sliced horizontally literally from right under the left ear to right under the right. "Voldemort came after me, too ... but he wasn't interested in doing the dirty work himself. It ... amused him to have Pettigrew simply slit my throat instead."

Lucia finally blinked. "Looks like he didn't do things by halves, either." She replied, making a point of keeping her voice intentionally light. "So, what's the secret? You immortal?"

"That's one of those things we haven't quite figured out yet. Father" a nod in the direction of James "claims that at that point there was a great flash of white light. When it subsided, I was healed – well, except for this – as was Father, of the injuries he'd sustained during his ..." The boy trailed off, glancing at James.

"V – he – hmm." James stumbled. "Well ... during the war, people thought I was the Snapes' Secret Keeper. I wasn't, but I knew who was." He looked a lot older. "When He figured that out, he ... well, he tortured me, not to put too fine a point on it." It was obvious that, even fourteen years later, this was still a very sensitive topic. "Taking me along with him when he attacked ... that was just another tactic of his, to try and break me completely."

"So Father found his injuries healed, and his captors disoriented. He figured that whatever had healed him might have also negated the elaborate spells and protections Voldemort had cast on himself, and he managed to grab a knife off one of the Death Eaters and threw it at Voldemort and" a motion that indicated finality "that was that."

"Believe me, my thought processes were not nearly that lucid. As always, Harry is far too kind. I was – all my hate for him just kind of boiled up in me, and" a shrug "next thing I knew his body was on the floor with a knife handle sticking out of his back and I was picking up Harry and preparing to apparate to Hogwarts."

Lucia rocked back on her heels as she processed the information. "So ... probably wouldn't work, then. Damn." A wry grin. "And so Father decided he'd see if he could remedy the deficiency your world has been experiencing these last fourteen years?" She shook her head. "Did you ever figure out what the light was or why and how it worked?"

Harry shook his head regretfully. "Only that presumably it was something that originated from me ... and that I haven't been able to do since."

"Not even that time when he fell from his broom from a height of about fifty feet, ending with only a broken arm –" James narrated expansively, while Harry crossed his arms and muttered something derogatory about a certain blond DADA professor that startled a sympathetic grin onto Lucia's face "– though he certainly scared me half to death."

Lucia acquired an arrested look on her face as she started pacing restlessly. "For some reason ... that white light ... sounds familiar. But I just can't place it!"

"I'd demonstrate it for you, if I knew how ..." the other Harry offered helpfully.

Thinking hard enough to entirely miss the facetiousness, Lucia shook her head, a quick, short jerk, as she continued to stare off into space. :If only I could remember ... what is it that I've forgotten?:

The mysteriously cowled figure (yes, the same one) smirked. This was done in spite of the fact that there was no one around to see and, even if there was anyone around, they wouldn't be able to see anything beneath the cowl. A smirk needed no excuse, as his elder brothers had told him many times.

"Almost ..." He murmured, voice filled with anticipation, unable to keep the smirk from reemerging. "It's almost time."

"i want to apologize to her ..." Jamie's voice was uncharacteristically hesitant.

Blaise's eyebrow made an impatient motion. "Apart from the fact that you know it wasn't your fault ..." A scowl pointedly indicated the sorts of things that might befall him should he be so unwise as to deny that he knew any such thing, "Why don't you?"

"Are you kidding? She's my mother! Lily Potter –"

"Snape." Blaise reminded him, feeling a sense of déja vu.

"Whatever. – herself! She's dead! i wouldn't know the first thing to say!"

Blaise eyed the dimensional traveler. With a sigh that indicated more melodrama than he actually felt towards the situation (it was a nice distraction from his own lingering feelings of guilt, after all), he repositioned Jamie and shoved him into a chair. "Chill."

"But ...!" The whites of his eyes showed disturbingly clearly. Merlin, how sad is this? He's more afraid of holding a normal conversation with his mother than he was of confronting one of the greatest evils the modern world has seen.

"I think you would probably agree that now is not exactly the best time." Blaise continued blithely. "There's a significant chance that she would lash out unfairly – and that's unfair to her as well as you, since I assure you she'd feel guilty afterwards – if, that is, you were able to pull her out of the pit of grief she's descended into in the first place." Okay, Blaise. Breathe. Breathing is good. "But later on – I say again, why not? As for starting a conversation, that's the easy one. You walk up to her, extend your hand, and say. 'Hi. I'm Harry Potter. Nice to meet you.'"

Changing his mind, he abruptly manhandled the alternate version of his best friend back up out of the chair he had been flung into. "Would you stop pushing me around?" Jamie managed to summon an irritated tone.

Blaise ignored that too. "Try it. 'Hi ...'"

"Hi ..." Jamie intoned dully.

"No, no, no. Say it like you mean it. Imagine me with long red –"

"Professor Dumbledore!!" The shriek preceded only by the smallest of moments the advent of a veritable tornado. At least that's what it certainly felt like, to the room's gathered inhabitants, as a black-haired girl practically flew up the steps, slamming into the room and skidding to a stop right in front of the aforementioned person's desk.

Utterly ignoring the fact – or, more precisely, not having slowed long enough to actually take note of it – that the man she spoke to was not, in fact, behind his desk, but off to one side attempting to comfort the red-haired woman that was the subject of the conversation between two boys about her age on the other side of the room, she began to speak – not unlike her entrance in that her words showed a tendency to trip over each other in their haste to leave her mouth.

"I had a dream – a vision, that is – and Voldemort summoned Father – Blaise came along too, I think it was meant to be initiation – was that your idea, planting Blaise as another spy, because I think that sucks – and there was this other black-haired boy that showed up halfway through – he seemed to know Voldemort – and Father died so we need to do something about it right away before he dies in truth!" Pause. Take a deep breath. And blink. "Er ... Professor Dumbledore?"

Now she took the time to look around. "Oh no ... Father ..."

As the newest black-haired daughter of Lily Evans reached down to hug her mother, a number of things happened:

First, a certain cowled being jumped in the air and pumped his fist in an exceedingly un-mysteriously-cowled-figure-like way and said something to the effect of "Score!" It is also worth noting that, at that moment, his mirror was suffering from a bit of a time lag; as far as he knew the girl with her hair in a sleep-mussed braid had only just entered the room and come to stand before the desk, and Blaise was no longer manhandling Jamie anywhere.

Second, Jamie was in fact being pushed around by Blaise, to somewhat more vocal protests by the dimensional traveler than before.

Third, in a neighboring universe, Lucia continued to pace in a circle, hunting for that niggling memory while that universe's native Harry had slipped a comforting arm around his father's waist.

And fourth, in a brilliant flash of light fully capable of inducing temporary blindness on the part of any and all hapless watchers, each and every person mentioned in the previous four paragraphs spontaneously disappeared.

The first things Jamie and Lucia saw were each other.

Tearing himself from a grip that Blaise had slackened in astonishment, Jamie lurched towards his female döppelganger. "Lucia! You're okay!"

The mysterious figure straightened his all-encompassing robes a bit nervously before clearing his throat. In what was meant to be a deep and awe-inspiring tone of voice (and, to be fair, almost managed it), he intoned "Welcome to my realm, o travelers –"

"Of course I am." For once, it was the adoptive daughter of Lucius Malfoy who indulged in a certain amount of asperity. "I can take care of myself, you know."

The mysterious figure paused, confused. They weren't supposed to interrupt him! Still, his part must be played, so he drew himself back up and reopened his mouth.

"I was just worried. Yeesh, is it too much to ask that I be allowed to be worried about you?"

"There's no reason to worry. I was just fine." She crossed her arms and huffed. "You, on the other hand ..." she made an emphatic gesture at the surroundings, and then at the boy himself. "What happened, did you see something shiny again?"

"You're not ever going to let me forget that, are you?"

"Lily? Is that really you?" James sidled up to the redhead, curious as to why she of all the people who had found themselves misplaced was still kneeling, her head hung.

Then she looked up, and he could feel his heart sympathetically break at the look in her eyes – and when he saw the deathly still body she still clutched (his old self would probably have joked 'in a death grip'), he could understand why.

"James?"

He bowed his head. "I sorrow for your loss. Severus was a good man."

A watery chuckle. "Now that's something I never thought I'd get the chance to hear you admit."

"I admitted it a long time ago ..." It was his turn, now, to utter a bittersweet chuckle. "... if only I hadn't ... if Severus had chosen someone better to protect your Secret Keeper, perhaps you'd both be alive now ..."

Lily's eyes narrowed. "I cannot think of anyone better. It was only you two stubborn fools who refused." A wry twist of the mouth. "And then, what happens? We are betrayed ... and yet survived, though we never quite figured out how."

"At least you had these extra fifteen years together." What did I have? Four? Five? Not nearly long enough ... a lifetime would not have been.

She sighed – worrying; the Lily he had known would have snorted at his patently incompetent attempt at consoling her. "Small solace, just now."

And he knelt by her side, joining her in contemplation as he remembered, all those years back, hearing of Remus' death in trying to rescue him ... and knowing he bore the sole responsibility for Sirius'. And the burning pain that had faded, perhaps, over the years ... but never quite disappeared. "I know."

"Look, could you stop laying the blame on me already? I know it's my fault we're in this mess. Do you think I'm that oblivious?" An angry gesture. "This entire situation is my fault! If I hadn't opened my bloody mouth and told Tom I was a Potter, none of this would have ever happened! Do you think I don't realize that?!"

"Picking up stuff just because it's shiny ... blurting things any fool would know not to – to our worst enemy no less! –"

"I was introducing myself. Are you suggesting I lie? When I didn't know he was Tom Riddle yet?"

"Why not? You don't seem to mind bending the truth otherwise!"

"Oh no!" Jamie looked struck. "Poking my nose where it doesn't belong ... being indiscreet with disastrous results ... telling the truth even when it would be better to lie ... it's official! I'm backsliding! I'm becoming Gryffindor again!"

"And what is that supposed to mean?!"

The other two Harrys and Blaise eyed each other warily, to the background of the Gryffindor and Slytherin's fight. Predictably, it was the Hufflepuff who made the first move. "Laurence Potter. Call me Harry."

"Blaise Zabini." The reddish-haired Slytherin took the proffered hand, and nudged his best friend. "C'mon ... don't tell me I'm going to have to start giving you politeness lessons, too ..."

The girl shook herself out of her daze, and took the hand once Blaise relinquished it. "Harriet Snape. And likewise." A grin took the opportunity to flit across her face – though wisely, it disappeared before she had time to properly acknowledge its existence and firmly quash it. "Though perhaps not ... I get the feeling we'll need all the help we can get, what with four of us running around ..."

The Hufflepuff raised an eyebrow. "Four? I've only counted three, so far ..."

The Ravenclaw kneaded her fingers across her temples, then shook her head firmly, a brief expression of frustration. "Sorry. I just assumed – those two over there look just like us ... I apologize. I'm really not at my best at the moment."

Taking in her sleep-mussed hair, half-lidded eyes, and – most notably – the fact that she was wearing a sky-blue nightgown (with a carefully sown on Ravenclaw patch just where it would be on a normal set of robes), the Hufflepuff playfully leered. "I don't know ... you look pretty good to me."

"Ugh!" At that expression of disgust, both turned inquiring eyes towards their Slytherin companion. "Okay, first of all – Harry, thoughts like that, no."

The Ravenclaw came briefly awake enough to roll her eyes. "Meet my big brother ..." she muttered, hiding a smile.

"That's right. I get to pound anyone who tries to hurt you." Blaise nodded firmly, allowing the sarcasm to flow freely over his head. "Anyway, second ... do you comprehend just how much genetic material you two share?"

"I don't know ... we've got at least one chromosome different ..." Laurence mused. As Blaise began to make threatening motions in his direction, though, he backpedaled. "Just joking around! Yeesh ..."

Now it was Blaise's turn to massage his temples. "Sorry ... I think my sense of humor has disappeared to wherever her brain went ... it's been a hard night."

Laurence raised an imaginary wineglass. "Amen to that."

An increase in volume directed all three heads towards the other two Harrys of the group. "I wonder what their problem is ..." Blaise mused. "I mean, Harry – the male one; I assume the female one was wherever you" he aimed that last bit at the Hufflepuff "came from? – didn't strike me as nearly that hot-tempered ..."

There was silence in their corner of the grey world as all three tuned in to the argument. Within moments, the conclusion was obvious. The other two Harrys shared a shrug. "It's a Gryffindor-Slytherin thing."

"Hey!" The very Slytherin Blaise protested. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The mysteriously cowled figure was getting rather nervous. Things were not going according to plan. And worried. And ... well, frankly, more than a little irritated. There was only so long he could stand there and listen to two people insult each others' ancestries – especially when they both seemed oblivious to the fact that they were the products of the exact same lineage.

"Would you please just ..." All right, that wasn't working. Then again, he hadn't really expected it to. Fine then, plan B. "WILL EVERYONE JUST SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME FOR A MOMENT?!"

On another world, sharing a short lunch with Severus Snape and Cho Chang, Draco felt the oddest urge to complement someone on their lung-power. However, since he had things to do and people to teach and losses (hopefully temporary) to ignore, he quickly returned his mind to other, more concrete things.

In the grey realm, however, it had a far more gratifying effect, as everyone stopped what they were doing and slowly turned to face the mysteriously cowled figure. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Laurence quipped, falling back into respectful silence under the glare he somehow knew the figure was sending his way.

"Okay. Now that everyone is listening ... perhaps you'd like to know why you're here?" The cowled head turned in the direction of James and Lily, and there was the distinct impression of a sigh. "... Why the four Harrys are here, at least ..."

If Harriet had had glasses, she would have been adjusting them about now in a typical display of academic curiosity. "That is indeed information I'd be interested in." In somewhat fewer words the other three chimed in their agreement.

"All right. So ..." Now that he actually had their attention, the mysterious figure seemed at something of a loss as to what to say. "It goes like this. I'm sure you know already that in your two worlds" he pointed at the Hufflepuff and the Ravenclaw "the man known as Voldemort or Tom Riddle is already dead." All four nodded. "In the other two, however, he is alive and well. And growing in power."

"... And we're the only ones who can stop him, I suppose?" Jamie commented dryly.

"Indeed. It is fated that Voldemort shall die at Harry Potter's hands –"

"– so much for that, then." Harry Malfoy and Harry Snape chimed in, while the two guys – the only ones who were Potters even in name – exchanged weary looks.

"– Snape, Malfoy, whatever. The child of Severus Snape and Lily Evans with some sort of connection to James Potter. Either he will die at your hands, or you will die at his." Hands were folded – or the front edge of sleeves, which is all that showed, at least. "Now, originally, it was all good. But then your world –" a nod in the Hufflepuff's direction "– lost its Voldemort far too early. That set off a reaction that empowered the other three in some fashion I'm not sure I understand."

"But wouldn't it empower every Voldemort in existence?" The Ravenclaw asked, somewhat bemused. "I mean, I assume the four of us aren't all that's out there."

The cowled figure made a thoughtful noise. "That would make sense, wouldn't it? I don't know, really – just that your four universes were tied together in some way even before all this happened, so the spreading power boost was confined in this closed system." He made a motion as if to scratch his head – would have, if both head and hand had not been covered in the dark cloth. "Let me see if there's anything in the notes ..."

"Somehow, this guy doesn't quite measure up to my image of the Mysterious Mentor Figure Who Knows Everything." Blaise, who had made his way forward until he stood only a bit to the side and behind Jamie, muttered. "His explanations of everything that's happened in the plot up until now and of the Ultimate Reason for Everything That's Happened leave a bit to be desired."

Jamie snorted his agreement. "You read too much muggle fiction for your own good, don't you?" Was his only comment.

Blaise shrugged. "Hey, everyone's entitled to a few vices."

"I hope he hasn't quit his day job ..." Laurence said, his eyes alight with mischief.

The mysterious figure's voice was a bit muffled as he bent his head to search through a bag that had appeared from beneath his robe. "Cut me some slack, all right? I'm just filling in for my sister while she's on vacation with – well, that's not really pertinent to this conversation. Usually she's the one who has to put up with all this crap." More digging, then a crow of triumph. "Found it!"

A battered old notebook emerged and was flipped through. "Hm ... yeah ... oh, I'd forgotten that part ... right ... ah, here we go. Seems like no one was ever able to figure it out for sure, but the most likely postulate is that these four universes were the only ones branched from some event in the fairly recent past. So even though the whole tree is out there," he had taken to making vague gestures meant to illustrate his point "anything done to one of the 'leaves' – in other words, one of your worlds – will affect the other leaves on the branch, but not any other branches or the tree as a whole."

The four Harrys exchanged a look. "I ... suppose that makes a certain amount of sense." Harriet said finally.

"So my metaphors suck." The four Harrys, knowing their cue, nodded. "Thank you. I needed that. Anyway ... where was I?"

"Trees?" Laurence quipped.

"Would you like me to test my charms skills on you?" The cowled figure asked in a saccharine tone of voice, before dropping back into normal mode. "I didn't think so. Good. So, one Voldemort dies, the others get powered up, the balance shifts some, causing the Lucius Malfoy of that world to be called as the next Dark Lord – but that's another subject entirely and only peripherally your problem." Deep breath. "Then Harry-Potter-with-the-lightning-scar messes the balance further by killing another Voldemort."

"I knew this was your fault somehow." Lucia muttered, slanting a suspicious glance in Jamie's direction.

"Oh, so now you think Voldemort being alive and well is a good idea?"

Glare.

Glare.

"Guys ..." The figure's voice was merely tired, now. "Could you put off your fight until I'm finished with my explanation? This is kind of important, and I really shouldn't take too much time ... universes tend to get kind of pissy when you kidnap their inhabitants and don't put them back somewhere for too long. And I doubt you really want to be trapped here."

Seeing that he had gathered the attention back to where it properly belonged at the moment – him – the figure took a deep breath and continued. "Right. So now, instead of four Voldemorts who are within the realms of beatable to four Harry Whatevers, we have two dead Voldemorts, two very high-powered Voldemorts, and a Lucius Malfoy somewhat before his time. That means there are two ways to jury-rig the balance. Either the two dead Voldemorts come back to life, or the two living Voldemorts get their buckets kicked. I'm sure you know which option is preferable."

Much nodding ensued, the two male Harrys with small, amused smiles on their face at the particular wording used. "But since they've got so much more power now, the chances of any one of you killing one of them successfully are slim to none. So, that means there had to be more than one of you. And thus, the situation."

Lucia raised her hand, before realizing that that was sort of silly – this was hardly a classroom situation. "So, was it all a setup? Jamie rescuing me, then both of us ending up in the other two worlds?"

"Yes and no. I didn't do any arranging, but I knew that was what was going to happen." He crossed his arms. "More or less. I knew the two of you" Lucia and Jamie "would get together, but I was under the impression that the two of you would take down the Voldemort in that world before I pulled you up here to explain everything."

"I'm thinking this means you guessed wrong." Blaise said dryly. "So ... this means what?"

"This means we return to my world, kill my Voldemort, and then finish the job on Lucia's world."

"Why yours first?" Lucia immediately objected. "At least your world has the hope of Harry Potter to keep the fight alive."

"Simple strategy." Jamie returned calmly. "Whichever we decide to get rid of first, the other will net a great increase in power. My Voldemort is – as you noted – on guard against our efforts. Yours is not. Thus, yours is the best to have to deal with powered up."

Logic warred with emotion in Lucia's face, but finally she nodded. "All right."

"It's not going to be easy." The mysterious figure interposed urgently. "Don't expect to just waltz in and stab him like before. He has always been a significant threat, and his new power has only made him worse of one – you are unlikely to be so lucky again."

Jamie's mind returned to the incident that had started this whole trip, how utterly helpless he'd felt after only one well-placed spell from his arch-nemesis, and he smiled mirthlessly. "Despite appearances, I don't think I will have that problem."

"I think we have all learned better than to underestimate evil." Laurence said, for once entirely serious – but of course, in James Potter's son, that didn't last long. "I don't suppose you have any cryptic advice to help us defeat them?"

"You must work together."

"'We must indeed all hang together, or most assuredly we will all hang separately'?" Harriet murmured.

"Exactly." The cowled figure seemed satisfied. "One more thing ... that will help in your fight, perhaps help turn the tide. Each of you possesses hidden power. Find it. Harness it."

"That's cryptic, all right." Blaise said, prompting a small murmur of humour.

"Once we kill him, how will we move to Lucia's universe?" Jamie asked.

"I – that is, someone will be watching. They'll pull you through."

Silence descended – everyone was still processing what they'd already been told, and no new questions were raising themselves. The mysterious figure shifted uncomfortably. "Um ... look, remember how I told you before that time was tight? I really ought to be sending you on now. It's not critical, but if no one has anything else ..."

"I assume you don't have the power to send us –" Blaise gestured to himself, James and Lily "– back where we belong."

There was, somehow, the impression of a grimace. "Even focussing on a single destination, it's going to be ... dicey, with seven of you instead of the four I was expecting."

"So be it." Blaise nodded decisively, before striding over to stand in front of Jamie. "I know I'm not Harry Potter, or Harry Snape, or whatever the four of you call yourselves. But I'll give this fight my all."

Jamie took Blaise's outstretched hand. "I assure you, it's an honor."

"Would you say the same to a pair of old farts if they decided to second Blaise's decision?" As Jamie turned to look at the owner of the new voice, for a moment his heart nearly stopped. This was the first time he had seen James Potter and truly known what – who it was that he was looking at. The man he had believed was his father for how many years? And still, on a certain level, did. Sure, this man was more worn than the bright young adult waving merrily in his photo album; worn and wounded beyond the mere – though impressive – physical evidence. But he was still – James Potter.

The Salazar part of his mind was all that kept him upright, and even his older counterpart didn't know quite how to cope. No matter how hard he tried to control his voice, what came out was little better than a breathy whisper. "I wouldn't dream of saying anything else."

So dazed was he that he didn't even notice when their guide called the seven of them together to prepare for transport; James had to nudge him as the older man passed before he came back to himself and joined the rest of the group.

As the light once again overwhelmed them all, Jamie thought he could hear a soft whisper – "good luck ..."

"We're supposed to reanimate – these?" Cho's face scrunched with disgust, rather adorably Draco thought, as she gestured towards the dead flies scattering the table.

Draco had been rather – read 'exceedingly' – surprised to find, upon careful examination, that Cho also had the Necromantic potential. Despite all he, his fellows and apprentices had done to spread their teachings to all those with the potential they could reach, there had always been very few of them around. Far too many came into their powers only to self-destruct or be killed by nervous neighbors. For many more, the potential stayed quite firmly latent, too far buried to reach. And even all those together made up such a tiny percentage of the population that they had been extremely lucky even to find and teach those they had.

He supposed, in the intervening thousand years, all those potentials has bred their little hearts out. Meeting two people with the potential so soon after his own was awoken was simply too great a coincidence otherwise. Not that Cho had anything near the depth of Severus' potential – she was actually fairly weak as necromancers go. But she still had the potential, and the strength of will, and the wish to learn. It's not like he hadn't taught weaker in his day.

"My experience aside," Draco drawled, "it is not necessarily wise to make your start trying to raise the spirits of dead basilisks. It's far too easy to accidentally burn yourself out trying to use that sort of power." A wry twist of the mouth. "It may not seem that way, but my managing to survive with no permanent damage to myself or my powers was actually quite astoundingly lucky."

"Still ..."

"If you would like to go out and find a few small birds to strangle," Severus interposed smoothly, with that glint in his eye and lilt to his tone that suggested he had a particular small bird in mind "I'm sure Draco wouldn't mind making the substitution."

"Dead flies it is." Cho caved hastily.

An indeterminate time later – Lucifer had always had a problem with losing track of time when he worked on his powers, and that's one thing that hadn't changed with the passing of years and changing of lives – Cho had finally gotten the hang of controlling her fly, while Severus amused himself by making three chase each other around in a loop of nearly fixed size.

"Good. Good. Severus, do you think you could add a – SHIT!!" All three had felt/Seen it at once – the blinding flash of another person's life as it abruptly appeared at the edge of their workroom. Cho clutched her head in agony, Severus' wand was out in reflexive response as he shielded his eyes and began trying to reconstruct his shield towards other forms of life. And Draco was pissed.

He slammed to his feet. "Salazar Slytherin, I am going to kill you! How many times have I told you not to interrupt me when I'm working? You could have permanently damaged someone, you thoughtless –"

And that's when his head caught up with his mouth, and the bond snapped back into place, catching him up in pleasure and rightness so sweet it neared agony. "... Salazar?"

"... Lucifer ..." The past weeks, wherever he had spent them, had not been good for his bonded. The black hair hung limp and greasier than he had ever seen it; he looked more pale and gaunt than ever – though that may have had something to do with the streak of blood painted on his cheek and the suspiciously darker patches elsewhere on his robes. And in his eyes, though he tried hard to hide it – they were happy, just about the greenest he had ever seen them – Draco could see that he was just that bit more haunted.

"Harry –" And without consciously realizing the distance between the two of them, he was suddenly there, in front of his friend, first gripping his shoulders as if to make sure he was real, then hugging him with all his might. No, Malfoys didn't do hugs. But at this moment in time, Draco couldn't bring himself to care.

So slowly, Harry began to return the hug – tentatively, as if he wasn't quite sure how it worked and was deathly afraid of doing it wrong. Then two other arms enveloped them both.

"I don't know whether to swat you for worrying us or just hold you and never let you go." The adult growled, the vibrations in his chest spreading to the two bonded and making Harry feel safe. Secure. Home.

"I promise, it was not by my choice ..." The raven-haired boy sighed into Draco's shoulder.

"Where were you? I couldn't feel you anymore ... do you know how much that hurt?"

"Too far ... far too far away ..." Arms gently disengaged from their death grip around Draco's lower back, rising to take his head between them. Foreheads touched, and Draco looked into Harry's brilliant eyes, only inches away, and read in them a sincerity nearing painful in its intensity. "Never again will I travel so far without you at my side."

"I promise."

22 August 2004

LadyBird, Kateri1, Arizosa, Kirsu, Raclswt, Lady Psyche, I Am The Bunny Slayer, Jedi Buttercup, Olivia Wood, LuciShadow, cosmoscat, Jaded Angel8, Aredhel Tasartir, Unseen Watcher, Immortal Tiger Wolf, sak, insanechildfanfic, Meh, Cor-chan, D'loni, eth, Lewen Stonewar, TheGOOD!Damnit!muse, ReddAlice, ShadowQuirk, Dius Corvus, pixie-chan, AJaKe, Crow21681, Sirius-ly Addicted, LunaKat04, Kaaera, SoulFlare, rose, Cartilong, EffietheAnt, Kristin, Andromeda Snape-Malfoy, Rosemary Sage, Jolie, Ranko66, Caedes, , nytemare, preoperative, authoraisarete– As always, profusive thinks for reading, for enjoying, for reviewing, and for putting up with my interminable update times.

LoMaRiBa, eriee, semirhage, Mary, Fate, Holy-Demon, Ookla the Mok, – I believe the problem you're speaking of is fixed now ... I've changed my scene-change-markers to something a bit more palatable to the system.